"No!" Nur-el-Din commanded with flashing eyes, "no, not that
name! I am Madame Le Bon, you, understand, a Belgian refugee,
from Termonde!"
Rather taken aback by her imperious manner, Desmond bowed again
but said nothing.
"I received your letter," the dancer resumed, "but I did not
answer it as I did not require your assistance. But now I wish
your help. It is unfortunate that you were absent from home at
the very time I counted upon your aid."
She flashed a glance at him as though awaiting an apology.
"I am extremely sorry," said Desmond, "if I had but known..."
Nur-el-Din nodded carelessly.
"I wish to pass the night here," she went on, "in fact, I may be
here for several days. They are becoming inconvenient in London,
you understand."
"But the theatre, your professional engagements?"
"Bah, I have left the theatre. I have had enough of these stupid
English people... they know nothing of art!"
Desmond reflected a moment. Nur-el-Din's manner was most
perplexing. What on earth could induce her to adopt this tone of
condescension towards him? It nettled him. He resolved to try and
find out on what it was based.
"I am only too happy to be of assistance to you," he said,
"especially in view of the letter of introduction you sent me,
but I must tell you plainly that what you ask is impossible.
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